Call On Me Again
by w.s.caer
Summary: Eric tilts his head, eyelids drooping lazily, and Sookie has to count all the reasons in her head why taking him home is a very bad idea. Five times format - four times Eric and Sookie part ways and once when they come together.


**Title:** Call On Me Again  
><em>(four times they part and once they come together)<br>_**Word Count: 1560  
><strong>**A/N: **Thought I'd dip my toe in this fandom with a small fic. Five times format. Starting with something light before the heavier stuff. A total of five parts. Primarily based on True Blood, but I like to draw on the novel as well. Timeline may be wonky as well, so obviously AU.

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><p><strong>i<strong>

She doesn't know how she manages to get herself into these predicaments. Really, she doesn't.

Sookie takes a moment to consider her life and, oh right, there's the fairy thing.

And the telepathy thing.

And can't forget tall and blond, and, dark and brooding with fangs things either.

Mostly the things with fangs though, she decides. Her life was just fine and dandy before they came along. No early evening abductions for her, no siree, back when she was a regular ol' telepathic barmaid in small town Louisiana. Now it's all _I'm dying, suck these bullets out of my chest, Sookie_ and _Yield to me, Sookie_ and _Let's have passionate, primal sex on your entrance rug, Sookie_.

All right, so all these things can really be attributed to said tall and blond. Doesn't discount the recent string of unplanned vacations at gunpoint, though. Four in the last nine weeks if the current vampire-werewolf alliance kidnapping is included.

You know things aren't looking good when other supes put aside millennia-long hate and band together to assure your demise.

The car finally stops and so does her jostling in the trunk. At this point, she doesn't even bother trying to gouge out any eyes when the back pops open and rough hands yank her out. "Hey, no need for that now. I'm cooperating, aren't I?" It's well past sunset, so reinforcements won't be too far behind.

Sookie looks around.

A junkyard. Lovely.

Maybe she should try to work up more fear or, rather, _any_ fear.

Maybe they could just follow her increasing annoyance instead? It wouldn't take much with that and her presence so far from Bon Temps to deduce what must have happened. She hopes, anyway. Her rescue team is smart – when they aren't childishly bickering, that is.

"You don't want to do that," she advises when her wrists are bound by a pair of silver cuffs. "Trust me, it doesn't do anything but annoy the hell out of them." But the Were just twists them tighter. Sookie shrugs. "Suit yourself." Oh, well. She tried. They must be young, she thinks, or plain dumb.

"I'm just," she points to the side, "going to stand over there." Yeah, it was best to stay clear while her guys did their thing. The hell kind of kidnapping is this anyway, letting her walk around wherever? Did they see her as so little a threat? She should probably feel less insulted, but, damn, if her ego doesn't take a bruising.

It's kind of comical, really, the way her ragtag band of captors gathers around in a circle and whispers and gestures wildly towards her, obviously trying to decide on a course of action. Great, she got duped by amateurs. There's hissing and growling and the snick of fangs and, hey, if they keep at it maybe things will just take care of themselves before the cavalry gets here.

That would require Sookie having a modicum of luck though, and, lord knows, she's in short supply of that.

Eric arrives first, cratering the ground with a powerful knee and fist as he drops from the sky – a Viking god reborn. Sookie rolls her eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't roll straight on out of her eye sockets. _Show off_, she mentally scoffs.

"Took your sweet time."

He shoots her a maniacal grin, blue eyes dancing with silent laughter. Eric's in a playful mood tonight, it seems. "Anticipation is half the fun, lover." His words drip with promise. Oh yeah, playful all right.

"Well, less anticipating; more doing."

The grin widens.

Good lord, he's impossible.

"From your lips to my heart." Then he back-flips, graceful as ever, over the vamp sneaking up on him.

Bill's entrance is markedly less theatrical, but it's the presence that counts. He turns up just as Eric's tearing the throat out of one of her abductors and automatically seeks her out. "Sookie," he says in the way only Bill can and her heart swells. She gives a little wave back to let him know all is good on her end before he jumps into the foray alongside his Sheriff.

Bill makes quick work of the Weres, but Eric is still toying with his prey, taunting his way through punches and bites. Even from where she is, Sookie can hear the crunch of bones under Eric's fists and she knows, despite his jovial tone, his temper is getting the best of him.

When the bodies finally stop twitching to their satisfaction, both finally make their way over. The cuffs are already digging in and she eagerly holds up her wrists.

"We could put them to better use." Eric waggles his eyebrows in case she doesn't already know _exactly_ what he means.

"They're silver," Sookie retorts.

An eyebrow goes up as if to say, _And?_

Unbelievable. "Masochist."

It's not flirting if it's true, right?

He smirks with fang. "With you – always."

"Keys, Eric," Bill cuts in, irritation clear.

To her surprise, Eric digs one out of his jeans. "Always prepared," he quips, and thankfully doesn't elaborate any further on the usual circumstances required for such preparedness. Despite the earlier bravado, he hands it over to Sookie and then blurs his way to antagonize the vamps some more.

"Thanks for coming," she says warmly to Bill once she's free, and then shows her appreciation suitable to his boyfriend status.

Eric zips back over with no sense of timing whatsoever – or, perfect timing, she's sure he would say. "Bill, you know the drill by now." Sookie knows it, too: interrogation and cleanup. The scowl on Bill's face fazes no one, Eric least of all, and Sookie places a soothing peck on his lips before he speeds off to do his Sheriff's bidding.

"Don't I get a kiss?" It's innocent, the way he asks, and if she doesn't know him like she does, she might actually believe it.

Still.

Eric _did_ come to her rescue, along with Bill.

In fact, it would be quite rude _not_ to thank him for his effort. Right? Right, she tells herself. The logic isn't completely sound but she doesn't want to risk Gran rolling in her grave over her granddaughter's bad manners. "On the cheek," she warns as she edges closer. He nods to her terms eagerly, even turning his head to the side, and lets her thinks she's emerged victorious.

Sookie falls for the oldest trick in the book.

Eric is quick.

Real quick.

He grabs the back of her head and pulls her into a very thorough examination of her tonsils. With his tongue. In her mouth.

Eric is an excellent kisser. What's worse – Eric _knows_ he's an excellent kisser. When his hand finds its way down to her ass, Bill's voice rings out, sharp as a whip. "Eric!" Then, a second later, with more shock, "Sookie!" when she gropes him back.

"It's the blood," she instantly blurts.

"It's a little bit of you, too," Eric teases back.

Okay, fine. "Maybe a little," she acquiesces, and is promptly rewarded for her semi-honesty with another tonsil inspection.

"_Eric!_"

"Yes, yes. She's yours, Bill." Eric mimics her earlier eye roll. "Don't you get tired of that old ball and chain?"

She shakes her head, far more amused than she cares to admit of his relentless pursuit – it's definitely the blood. "I love Bill."

"You love me, too," he reminds her with a sly curve of his lips, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. Smug bastard.

Sookie tries not to smile back, but his energy is infectious. It's hard not to throw him a bone. "I tolerate you."

"You love me," he insists.

"I _like_ you," she concedes, refusing to admit to anything more.

"See? From _tolerate_ to _like_ in two seconds. What I could do with a night, lover…" His fingers graze over her bare arm and she clamps down impossibly hard on her traitorous body. No need to imagine. She has plenty to draw from. "I would fuck you so hard, Sookie," he promises huskily. Blood rushes simultaneously to her nether regions and her face. "Until you came writhing on my cock again and again, dripping with need for me. Until you forgot the name Bill Compton. I want to see your lips wrapped –"

As soon she comes to her senses, she clamps her hands over Eric's mouth for both his sake and that of her underwear. Over his shoulder, Bill has murder in his eye.

All of a sudden, something wet and rough drags itself across her palm.

Christ. What a rake.

"Shut up." She can feel his laughter against her skin even as she claims her hands back. "Before I intimately acquaint you with that nice table leg over there."

Eric tilts his head, eyelids drooping lazily, and Sookie has to count all the reasons in her head why taking him home is a very bad idea. "You'd miss me."

She can feel her ears and neck heat up as she considers her response. "Oh, I'd miss certain parts of you." Good lord, the man brings out the absolute worst in her. She doesn't even remotely feel sorry.

Eric laughs, loudly, and she makes shooing gestures at him.

"I hope you call on me again, Miss. Stackhouse." He steps back with a cheeky grin, winks, and then takes off into the sky like a goddamn superhero.

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><p><strong>Reviews always welcome. <strong>


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